


A new Queen

by Insecuriosity



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Breeding, Egg Laying, Insecticon, Insecticons breeding, M/M, Mech Preg, Mpreg, Multi, Smokescreen becomes a Queen, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, inner workings of Insecticon hive, interface
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2274774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insecuriosity/pseuds/Insecuriosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Insecticons are a force to be reckoned with, and they are unwaveringly loyal to their Queen. </p><p>Smokescreen sees a chance to win the war by becoming a willing Queen for the largest Insecticon hive still living. They do not need much convincing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day one

**Author's Note:**

> Ahem. So this happened- normally I stay far away from stories focusing on interfacing or sex, but one day I was inspired, and I wrote this.  
> I hope you enjoy. I sure did when I wrote it ^^

The Insecticon hive under Cybertron's surface was enormous, and from every nook and cranny he could see the half-bestial faceplates of the Insecticons, visors glowing from the dark. His legs were shaking as he entered the hive, but Smokescreen didn't look backwards.  
A large Insecticon escorted him deeper into the hive, the light of Cybertron making place for the eerie glow of insect-like pods scattered everywhere. The hallways were curving and complex, and it only took four sharp turns left and right for Smokescreen to lose his bearings. 

Smokescreen clenched his servos, and vented in a deep breath. Getting lost was not a problem. They would let him back out, if he wanted to. The Insecticon dove into a tunnel, leading deeper into the hive, and Smokescreen carefully followed it. The heavy scent of Insecticon-processed energon was growing stronger, and Smokescreen watched as a group of smaller Insecticons carried a drooping heap of processed energon towards an empty pod in the wall. Even when sealed beneath hardened silicones, the scent of the Insecticon energon was everywhere. It was the most refined energon that could be made without complex machinery, and it was meant exclusively for the Queen of the Insecticon hive. Before the war had started, it had been a luxurious item. Well... that's what the old history pads claimed. 

The Insecticons scuttled and clicked as they walked past them, and Smokescreens' large Insecticon guide nudged Smokescreen to take a turn. A hallway, positively packed with filled energon-pods, stretched out before them, ending in a round room. The first dead-end Smokescreen had seen since entering the hive.  
It was not a large room by Cybertronian standards, but when you considered the effectiveness and practicality of the Insecticons it was large and surprisingly decorated.  
It barely held any Insecticons, a stark contrast with the rest of the hive, and it was barely lit. The glowing energon pods on the ceiling and floor barely radiated enough light to give the room a low glow. In the middle of the room sat a large throne. Smokescreen felt his face pull into a wry smile. A throne even Starscream would reject. 

It looked like a berth, sleek, long and broad. It was large enough to hold three Insecticons at least, and Smokescreen's own frame would not even reach the edges if he stretched himself. A large panel rose from the back, cutting off the view to one half of the room and curving slightly over itself. It looked soft, and Smokescreen swore that the thing was actually padded with cloth. A few small and unsightly Insecticons lingered in the room, clicking endlessly and keeping their dim visors on Smokescreen. 

“So that's it?...This is the place?” His voice sounded strange in the room, next to all the clicking and shuffling. The Insecticon guide nodded, and his voice was a low clicking rumble.  
“Yess...”  
“Cozy... Heh.” The Insecticon didn't reply to that, and Smokescreen's smile dropped off his face. “So. Deal's clear?”  
The Insecticon nodded. “Yess...”  
“And you will keep your terms?” Smokescreen's voice was shaky. He had faced fearsome enemies, faced death and pain, but there was more to fear than pain or death. 

The large Insecticon nodded, slowly and deliberately. Smokescreen nodded back, mostly to himself, and stepped towards the Insecticon throne. The smaller Insecticons in the room bristled, and an unsettling buzz ran through their wings. Smokescreen stopped, and lingered in front of the berth.  
This was it, the moment in which he could turn around and drive right back to the Autobot base for a lengthy lecture from Ultra Magnus. He steeled himself, and turned to the guide-Insecticon, who was still watching from the entrance of the room. 

“No funny business.”  
The Insecticon made an odd sound before he answered. “The command of our Queen is absolute.”  
Smokescreen looked back at the berth and tried to steel himself. “Phew... Okay.... I can do this...” It would be worth it. It was worth it. He crawled onto the throne.

The Insecticons started clicking excitedly, and Smokescreen's Insecticon guide howled a long and eerie cry. The sound echoed through the entire hive as the other Insecticons mirrored it.  
Smokescreen simply leant uncomfortably against the back of the soft berth. The strange soft mesh was making his sensors tingle, and his doorwings began to twitch. He had his optics locked firmly on the large Insecticon that had guided him through the hive. “So.What now...? Some coronation or something?”  
The larger Insecticon did not answer, but the answer came soon enough when one the smaller Insecticons rushed into the room with a small, unopened energon pod. The Insecticon servant bowed, and held the pod up for Smokescreen to grab. Last chance to back out. Smokescreen cycled a few deep breaths, and rolled the pod in between his hands. He could do this. Rich nobles used to pay fortunes for a cup of the stuff. Smokescreen looked at his Insecticon guide.  
“... Already...?”  
“It is the most important part of a Queen's honourable work, my Queen.” The Insecticon's visor rose to meet his optics, and the crude creature trilled. “The longer you decide to lay barren, the more the hive dies. We have missed you, Queen...” 

Smokescreen pulled his gaze away from the beast, and laid back against the berth. The ceiling was only barely visible in the dim glow, and the pods lining every space of the wall were all empty. Smokescreen brought the energon-pod to his lips, and rested his denta against the soft silicone mesh. If he went through with this- he would probably never come out of this room again.  
He wanted nothing more than to throw the pod aside, stride out of the hive and go right back to the Autobot base. Then they would prepare for the Decepticons, fight a losing battle, and die. If the Autobots had any chance of winning the war, they needed the Insecticons. One life for the greater good- for a free Cybertron. It would be worth it. 

Smokescreen bit into the pod, and the energon burst free, filling his mouth with thick energon. It slid down his intake so slow that his systems were sending him warnings of an obstruction, and the mess settled thick and hot in his tank. His glossa was over-stimulated, and his mouth seemed to burn as the last sip went down his intake. It was safe to say he had never encountered a fuel item so chock-full of nutrients.  
He laid back in the softness of the berth, and tried to quench the sickly coiling in his tank. His systems were recalibrating. Smokescreen's vents hitched, and he curled on his side.  
Okay. No need to freak out. He could do this- he had agreed to his. Smokescreen tried to calm his ventilations, and he ignored the notifications popping up on his HUD. His insides were already shifting, taking on their new positions with the coding the nanytes had brought in. Nothing permanent. It was nothing permanent, so there was no need to worry. There was a jab of pain in his lower abdomen, and an audible click of metal shifting into place. Oh Primus- maybe he could have been reading those notifications. 

Something metal and unmistakably Insecticon rubbed against his side, and Smokescreen lashed out. A shriek, the clatter of metal on metal, angrily buzzing wings-  
“No-! Not ready yet-! So stay off!” Smokescreen's frame was weak- systems still whirring with new code and protocol, and another flash of pain rocked through him. He grit his teeth. “No breeding- I'm-... I'm your Queen- no breeding yet!” Another jab of pain had him writhing into the soft padding of the berth, and the Insecticon servants agitatedly clicked and lingered at the edge of the berth.  
“Queen- help Queen- relieve pain-...” Smokescreen would have punched the ugly beast right then and there, had his systems been responsive enough.  
“Nobody... is getting his spike in me... until I'm- ready! Relieve pain or not!” The Insecticon clicked angrily in the messy Insecticon-language, but it did not clamber onto the berth. Smokescreen jolted as another jab of pain rushed through his systems. 

His sensory-grid was recalibrating- every single point on his body sensitising until he could feel even the soft padding of the berth on his thickest armour plates. His ventilations were picking up by their own, and the notifications on his HUD were coming in a slower pace. Basic reformatting of the gestation chamber had finished- unnecessary abdomen systems had been relocated.... Interface coding modified – activating.  
Smokescreen's sensory net was sore, but they were no longer registering pain. Smokescreen squirmed and tried not to gasp as the soft padding of the berth rubbed his sensors alive. The first gulps of Queen-energon had been processed. Smokescreen looked at the Insecticon visors that were all staring at him from around the throne, and he shook his head frantically. No. He wasn't ready- not yet-....  
A sudden clawed servo on his pede had him jolting in surprise. One of the Insecticon servants had crawled back into the berth, and was caressing his lower pede, almost a massage in the way that the dulled claws ran into his seams and caressed. Smokescreen jerked his pede from its grasp, but it returned immediately, almost tender in its ministrations.

It was becoming hard to focus. The new codes were absorbing processor power like a virus, and his unstimulated sensors were causing Smokescreen's most intimate memory files to boot. There was another metallic sound from Smokescreen's insides, but there was no pain, and his processor had no more power to pay mind to it. Interface- interface -.... Not... Not yet- not yet... Smokescreen's valve was lubricating steadily. Smokescreen had a moment of hysterical panic when he saw that the coding had his lubricant-systems set to a loop.  
The Insecticon caressing his leg was a good distraction from his building heat. Smokescreen rested his head back enjoyed the sensation of dull talons caressing his lower body... Another set of Insecticon servos touched his frame, and he let out a moan as the new touches ran along his sides and up to his chestplates. The clawed servo lingered above his spark for only a nanoklik, and then it moved lower. Smokescreen online his optics, and found a second Insecticon pressed against his side, drawing slow massaging circles right above the gestation chamber. 

His frame was almost ready. His spike had pressurised somewhere along the way, and it was pressing against its panel. Smokescreen willed the panels to stay shut, even as the flowing lubricant from his valve was starting to leak from the seams. Did he want it yet? Smokescreen looked at the Insecticons pressing against his body, and tried not to feel the aching need for an interface. The glowing light hid their ugly frames, and their red visors glowed strangely in the dark.  
The caresses on his frame continued, and Smokesrceen found that his body had finally lost all its resistance. He was slack on the berth, and he spread his legs for what was going to happen soon. The Insecticon at his legs crawled closer, and flicked a thin tongue over Smokescreen's interface covers. Smokescreen's body seized without his consent at the wet pressure on his oversensitised plates, and his interface array snapped open. The second lick ran half over his exposed valve, and he screamed. He arched into the touch, and the third lick ran cruelly over the outer sensor node and up the length of his spike. The Insecticon massaging his abdomen set its tongue to work on the exposed cabling in his neck.  
Smokescreen let his head loll to the side. Pointed Insecticon denta were grazing important energon lines, and a lubricated glossa wormed its way in between the lines to barely graze the underlying protoform. Two glossa working on him at the same time, and he was nothing but a heap of moaning pleasure.

The ugly thin tongues of the Insecticons left a wet trail of lubricant wherever they licked, and Smokescreen distractedly wondered if their lubricants had acidic qualities with how much his sensors were burning on every touch.  
“Ooohh....” How long had he been moaning? Smokescreen's body was becoming restless. He wanted to run, move, lose all this extra building energy, but his limbs were unresponsive. They moved sluggish and weak, the pent up energy rendering them almost useless. He was on a cloud of pleasure, drifting somewhere high, where only pleasure existed-  
There was a series of chirps, clicks and growls somewhere in the background of his heaven. Smokescreen tried to see- forcing awareness into his arching frame. The soft licking at his valve and spike disappeared, and something big suddenly pressed against the entrance of his valve. Smokescreen startled awake from his haze in a klik.  
“No!” 

A huge hulking form was hanging over him, its features barely visible in the glow of the throne room. It let out a long whine, and Smokescreen could feel its pressurised spike sliding against his inner thigh. Panic- confusion. How long had this Insecticon been here? How long had he been lying here? Smokescreen squirmed. His interface array was growing hot- uncomfortably so. He needed those glossa back on his body- not a spike- not yet. He forced himself to close his legs, and he looked up at the Insecticon hanging over him.  
It looked like a soldier, rugged and big. Bigger and stronger was better- that was Smokescreen's best bet. The eggs needed to be strong. Smokescreen swallowed, and shook his head. His processor was straining as he forced the new codes to fall back, demanding more processing power for his thoughts.  
“No- Not you...Bring me the guide- the one that brought me here. Bring him.”  
The large Insecticon let out an agitated screech, but it moved off him, its spike leaking small drops of transfluid . Smokescreen could see more of the larger Insecticons, impatiently waiting on the outskirts of the room. They didn't look like servants. Smokescreen squirmed on the throne, and the smaller servant Insecticon that had been tending to his valve returned in between his legs.  
He moaned again, and he tried to let himself fall back into his previous state. He dug his fingers into the berth's padding and offlined his optics, but it seemed that his frame was no longer content with glossas and touches. He pushed himself back against the Insecticon licking his valve, but there was simply not enough- He wanted to be back- back at that pinnacle of pleasure-!

“I was summoned, Queen?”  
Smokescreen's breath hitched, and he turned to the only Insecticon face he'd taken effort to in remembering. His legs shifted open almost automatically.  
“Yes- You're first- hurry!”  
He could barely even recognise himself as he struggled to push the servants away so he could receive the first CNA deposit of the day. Through a haze of urge and want, he saw the large Insecticon shifting his stance. A click and a metallic sliding sound, and the Insecticon's spike was free. Smokescreen could feel the smaller Insecticons move away again, valve and spike finally free from infuriating little licks, and the Insecticon guide crawled onto the berth.  
The bot's spike was pressing into him before he'd good and well realised that the Insecticon was towering over him, and his vents stalled as the ribbed spike stretched his valve. With every new ridge that was carefully pushed into his valve, he contracted without control. Moans forced themselves out of his voicebox as hundreds of burning sensor nodes were brought to life by the Insection inside of him.  
This. This was what he wanted. Smokescreen threw his arms around the large form looming over him, and spread his legs as far as they would go. The spike inside of him was forcing any other thought but pure pleasure from his mind. He felt the pointed tip pressing against his bared gestation chamber, and just as he was sure that the Insecticon was going to push his spike too far, the bot pulled back.  
He howled as the ribbed spike seemed to snag onto the calipers his valve, trying to stay inside and dragging harshly over all the sensor nodes lining his valve. He barely had time to realise that the Insecticon had pulled back before the spike was going in again, starting up a jerky rhythm. Smokescreen tried to meet those wonderful thrusts, but his body failed him, leaving him only to cling onto the Insecticon spiking him. His own spike sent jolts of heat into his lines as it bumped the coarse belly of the Insecticon, and he could feel drops of transfluid running down his own length.

Oh, he could do this forever. There was a short moment of static before he almost started laughing deliriously. He would be doing this forever, wouldn't he? The laugh cut off into a groan as the Insecticon's thrusts grew wilder, and Smokescreen's doorwings trembled as they were pressed flat against the soft berth below him. The Insecticon thrust, and pressed its massive frame against Smokescreen. The spike slipped deeper than it had before, and Smokescreen swore he could feel the tip pressing against the opening to his gestation chamber. Something started spilling inside of him, and the thrusts stopped. Smokescreen little gasps became stressed instead of pleased, and he wriggled underneath the Insecticon. The Insecticon kept still, its spike buried deep as he ensured that all his transfluid would make it into his queen.  
“You... fragging-... you! MOVE!” Smokescreen tried to move himself over the spike, but the Insecticon had him effectively pinned. The beast's visor was dimmed, and it was panting in an attempt to expel excess heat.  
“Honour, my Queen- first one... thankful... gratitude.”  
It pulled out too quickly, and Smokescreen cried out. He had to finish- he was not done yet! His limbs refused to keep a grip on the Insecticon and the large form moved off the throne berth.  
“Finish me- I... 'm.... I'm your Queen!” 

The Insecticon that had been his guide retreated, but before Smokescreen could attempt to rise off the berth and demand an overload, a different Insecticon was on top of him. Claws pushed his legs open almost forcefully and Smokescreen's valve was filling up again. Smokescreen's vocaliser shorted out. The second Insecticon was thrusting immediately, and all thoughts of his previous partner were forgotten.  
The thrusts were wild, and Smokescreen felt his body sliding back over the berth with every single one. The Insecticon hollered, and tried to speed up even more. Smokescreen could do nothing but try to control the wild spasms that shook through his body when the mech's spike managed to hit a node cluster.  
The Insecticon's spike slid out, and with a near-scream of frustration it was forced back in again. Smokescreen's moan was caught in a choking gasp, and he feebly moved his hips – wanting more, more more!  
He felt the transfluid from his previous partner squeezing past the other's spike, and it started trailing out of his valve, down his leg. His overload was inching closer, but the excess energy would just. Not. Dissipate. 

Smokescreen writhed underneath the Insecticon, and urged the metallic bug on. It just wasn't enough! The Insecticon suddenly flattened him against the berth and then it went rigid. A second burst of transfluid was splurting against the entrance to his gestation chamber, and Smokescreen let out an inchorerent curse as the second Insecticon finished itself inside of him.  
With a satisfied rumble that made Smokescreen want to scream, the Insecticon drew out and crawled off the throne. “Not again-! Overl-.. overload me already! I'm your-” A third Insecticon crawled onto the berth slipped its spike into him. “- Queeennngh!”  
The Insecticon turned him onto his side, and hooked Smokescreen's leg onto his bestial shoulderplating. Smokescreen's curses were once again forgotten and cut off as the thick spike made short little ruts against the sensors in his valve. The Insecticon leant forward as it thrusted, and rumbled in Smokesrceen's audial.  
“It is why we exist- We are burden to hive, only for pleasuring Queen-...” Smokescreen was barely listening as he clung onto the Insecticon's helm, welcoming each thrust with an erractic squeeze of his valve. All he wanted was for him, them, all of them, to continue until he could finally find release. 

Smokescreen didn't know his frame could hold so much energy. He didn't know how his lines weren't burning from charge. With every Insecticon spilling its load, he got a bit closer, just a bit closer to overload. There was a growing wet pool underneath him, growing with each overloading Insecticon. By this point, all that could cross his processors was pleasure. Pleasure pleasure pleasure- and how to achieve the pinnacle of the pleasure his frame would allow him. The Insecticons pushed and turned him in different positions, claws digging into seams, denta holding his doorwings, the spikes of his next lovers rubbing tentatively against his frame. 

It was the fifteenth Insecticon that finally did it. It had no trouble sliding in, the way eased by transfluid and the valve stretched by fourteen earlier visitors. Smokescreen had been on the edge of hysteria- his overload still building after fourteen spikes thrusting to their climax. But this time, when the tip of the Insecticon's spike hit the back of Smokescreen's valve, the charge burst loose.  
The whole world seemed to white out, every single bit of focus irreversibly stuck on the charge of the overload. There was a high ragged scream in the air as he rode out his pleasure, the Insecticon's whine lost in the noise as it rutted on. The ghost of the choking charge seemed to linger in Smokescreen's frame even after he had reached his overload. Smokescreen went completely slack, under the Insecticon, and barely noticed it when the Insecticon finished and pulled out. Smokescreen lied as limp as a doll on the throne, his shuddering frame dripping transfluid with every hitched breath.  
There was no new spike prodding at his entrance, like he had expected, but a few moments later Smokescreen felt a servant's glossa flicking over his valve, cleaning him and the berth below. Another servant curled up by Smokescreen's side, and resumed its massage on Smokescreen's abdomen. A third servant held out a feeding pod, the membrane already broken and Queen-energon slowly dripping out. Smokescreen opened his mouth a bit, and let the servant feed him. Countless pop-ups on his HUD were trying to catch his attention. His tanks were low, energon consumption was up to 134%, his anti-spark programs were glitching, gestationchamber was demanding triple energy input, and his interface panels would not close. All part of the nanyte-recoding.  
Smokescreen laid back, and groaned as the thick energon settled in his tank. His systems stopped whining about low energy levels, and he simply dozed on the waves of pleasure still rocking his sensorgrid. The servant Insecticons continued their soft caring for him, licking clean his interface array and running careful and soothing touches over his sensitive sensornodes.  
He wanted to sleep. With a groan Smokescreen set his pede on the Insecticon that was still tending to his lower region and pushed it off.  
“G't off.... gonna recharge.” The servant scuttled off, and Smokescreen pressed his legs together. His joints felt strained from being spread too long, and he winced. He checked his chronometer and let out a shuddering sigh. “Day one.” Smokescreen's sensornet gave a sudden little jolt of pleasure, and he twitched. If every day was going to be like this- lost in that haze of more spikes- more breeding- thick syrupy energon... He had planned on far worse to get the cooperation of the Insecticon hive. 

A large Inseciton approached the berth, and Smokescreen grunted. “I'm not ready yet- try later. I'm not taking any spikes 'til... 'til I'm ready again.” Or rather, until the Queen-energon had his body so winded up he wanted nothing more than to be 'faced forever. Hmm. He wondered how long that would take.... Smokescreen's optics offlined almost by themselves as he threatened to slip into recharge.  
“Queen.”  
His optics came online again, and his vocaliser let out an annoyed moan. He forced some energon into his systems, and shook himself awake. The large Insecticon by his berth was the guide, and Smokescreen grunted. They still had things to talk about. The arrangement.  
“I did good huh?.... You don't- need to answer that.” Smokescreen could hear a slight slur in his own words, and he reset his vocaliser. “'kay... I proved it to you, like you wanted, I'm your Queen now. So, it's time to receive your first orders.” Smokescreen was hazy with overload, and he cleared his mind as much as he could. “You, specifically you, are going to go to Ultra Magnus. Bring troops, lots of soldiers, and do what Ultra Magnus says. Anything he says.” The Insecticon clicked, and Smokescreen hastily added “Anything except bring harm to the Hive- I'm your Queen now, okay? I don't-....” 

Smokescreen trailed off, and the constant petting of his stomach was suddenly a tad invasive. He was the Queen now. In a few decacycles, quite a few of the hive's inhabitants would be his creations.... His creations.  
“.....I don't want you dead...” His voice sounded small, and it was almost lost in the sounds of the hive. He knew what the job of a 'Queen' was. To lie down, and take on endless hoards of interface partners, birthing quick batches of fertilised eggs in between the breaks. The first break would not yield any eggs. Not yet, but a.... 'well-versed' Queen had a batch in between every two overloads or so. Smokescreen's mind followed the twisted rail of thought. If he was Queen for long enough, the entire hive would be filled with his own children- and they would care for him, feed him, protect him... Until there were no breeders left but his own spawn. Smokescreen was pretty sure that that meant the end of a Queen's reign. A definite end.  
He abruptly tore himself away from the idea, and turned to the still-waiting Insecticon standing by his berth. No use in trying to predict the future- there wouldn't be any future for ANY Cybertronian if the Decepticons won the war. “You will listen to Ultra Magnus, all the Insecticons will- alright? His orders are my orders- unless the entire hive is in danger. Okay?”  
The large Insecticon made a strange bow, and purred deep and low. “We obey the Queen. The lifebringer. The lifebringer comes before all others.”  
Smokescreen vented out slow and deep breaths, and there was a twisted sense of pride in his spark. Was this how it would have been like to be a Prime? Probably not. He doubted Optimus' leadership came at the price of endless interfacing. Smokescreen shifted himself in to a more comfortable recharge position, and let his processors slow down. 

He twitched at a wet feeling a his valve and with a flick of annoyance he noted that one of the Insecticons was licking at his interface array again. He pushed the servant off. “Stop that-... wanna recharge...”  
The servant retreated, and the larger Insecticon crouched next to the berth. “Our Queen, comes before all- you will be accommodated, always.” He bowed low in submission, and Smokescreen relaxed against the soft berth. Had he even been in a berth so soft?....  
The servant caring for his abdomen was fluttering its wings, sending a soothing hum through Smokescreen's systems. The large Insecticon licked carefully over the side of his helm, and Smokescreen fell into recharge...


	2. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hive is graced with visitors from other hives. Ultra Magnus sends a message and takes one.

Smokescreen had expected to start his day with a spike already half in his valve, followed by a quick gulp of energon in between one spike and the next. Instead, he woke up in the soothing glow of the throneroom with a crooning Insecticon spooning his back. Smokescreen shifted, and the servant Insecticon made a few clicks that had the other servants rushing towards the berth. Smokescreen made a surprised noise when they carefully repositioned him, but it cut off in the middle when the slender Insecticon claws began cleaning his seams.

Smokescreen relaxed, and vented out a sigh he hadn't noticed he had been keeping in. Just cleaning. He shifted his plating shifted, opening just a tad wider and allowing the servants to dig in that tiny little bit deeper to get out the last dirt. Smokescreen's sensor grid twitched with slight discomfort at each touch and a small wave of warm relief when they faded

Another servant was working on his legs. Smokescreen hadn't even noticed the strain on his pelvic joints, but now that they were picking out the dust and carefully untangling pinched sensornet wirings, Smokescreen noticed how much he had been aching.  
There were heaps of congealed lubricants and transfluids stuck in his seams, and not only in his pelvic area. It was kind of startling to know that the rest of those fluids were all held in his gestation chamber doing Primus-knows-what. Smokescreen shifted uneasily. There was no sloshing of fluids inside of him, no obstructions.... not yet.

Slow and meticulously, the servants picked clean his seams while he drank energon from one of the pods that had been handed to him. One of the servants clasped its servos softly around Smokescreen's helm, and started massaging it in slow circles that had Smokescreen's processor lose 30% efficiency. He moved his head into the touch and looked at one of the servant Insecticons. “Gotta say-... was not expecting this.”

The servants had never spoken before, but in the absence of the larger guide Insecticon, a high scratchy voice answered from besides him. “Queen must be cared for, because Queen is the future of all the Hive. Mating will commence shortly after our care.”  
Smokescreen rolled onto his side, and groaned when the servants began to clean his sore backplates. There was a trace of charge already building in his frame, and a subtle warming of his interface equipment. Smokescreen shifted uncomfortably. “Hng... How long will all this take?”  
It was not the servant that answered, but rather the guide Insecticon that was suddenly standing in the throneroom. “Your joints will be oiled, your plates cleaned, your protoform cleaned, and your repair nanytes updated.”

Smokescreen's optics cycled wide. That was one pit of an extensive repair! “All of that? Every day?”  
The Insecticon bowed with what could have been a small smile, but looked more like a weird yawn. “Our Queen is our hive. Finding a new Queen... difficult.” Smokescreen let out a groan when one of his doorwings was slowly rotated in its socket, and smooth oil was rubbed into the aching spots. When he'd made the decision to sacrifice himself to win the war for the Autobots, he'd been resigning himself to a lifetime in the Pit. He had been expecting day upon day of sexual torture, not a string of overloads that had him questioning if Primus lived in his interface-systems and a daily spa-trip!

“It'd be... less difficult if you advertised the benefits a bit more... Primus that's so good-...” The servant that was tending to his doorwing made a happy sound, and sent a trilling vibration through the appendage that seemed to worm all the way into Smokescreen's protoform. Smokescreen's optics flickered, and his interface systems heated a bit more.  
The large Insecticon guide let out a snarl, and the servant immediately drew back. Smokescreen's doorwings twitched, but before he could ask what that display was supposed to mean, the large Insecticon placed a data transmitter on Smokescreen's throne.

“The Magnus sends a message.”  
Smokescreen looked at the little datachip, and then back at the Insecticon. “I take it he was glad for the assist?” The Insecticon hesitated and nodded curtly. Smokescreen rolled onto his side, picking the transmitter off the soft mesh of the berth. It was not just a datachip with a message, that much was plain to see. It was a tracker, and a communicative device. Smokescreen didn't have to access the message to know what it would be. It'd be a curt message stating they were appreciative for his sacrifice, and that he had a nice life for as long as it lasted.

Smokescreen shook his head clear. Or just a worried scolding, and then the insane plan they had made to save him from the Insecticons. He didn't really know which message he would prefer. The first message would be most likely. A full hive of Insecticons was far more useful than just one Autobot, and Ultra Magnus would be a fool to throw away this opportunity. Smokescreen subspaced the transmitter, and decided he would look at it later. Maybe. Someday.

The servants were done cleaning his seams, and they started to lather his plating in smooth oils. They smelled like the hive, and it was a comforting scent.  
The large Insecticon still lingered by Smokescreen's berth, and when he spoke, it was with clear hesitance. “Queen. It is only your second day of rule- but you have visitors.” Smokescreen's attention snapped away from the servants, and he stared at his guide.  
“Visitors?” It couldn't be the Autobots. The war couldn't be over yet, and Ultra Magnus was insane if he thought he could free Smokescreen from the middle of an Insecticon hive. “What kind of visitors?”  
The Insection's visor lit up almost tenderly, and the bot's wings fluttered excitedly. “They are patrons- visitors from other hives, who wish to give their transfluids to further strengthen the Insecticons. It has been long- too long, since we had a Queen for them to visit.”

“Give transfl-...Other hives-?!”  
The Insecticon bowed its head, and its visor dimmed. Smokescreen couldn't tell if it was with fondness or grief. “Yes. The death of Cybertron has been hard... so many hives dead, so many hives asleep-... But we are awakening, the cycle continues! Queen, are you accepting visitors?”  
Smokescreen hesitated, but the shimmering hopeful look in the visor of his old guide made him give in. “Yea. Yes. Of course. It's my duty as a Queen, right? The visitors are most definitely welcome to my... uh... throne.”

The Insecticon's wings fluttered excitedly. “Their visit shall commence after your caretaking. I will guide them to your throneroom, my Queen!” With a bound in its gait, the Insecticon hurried out of the throne room. Smokescreen watched him leave, and settled back in the caring embrace of his servants.  
The energon and the meticulous cleaning of his frame were finally yielding results. His valve was starting to leak lubricants, and his spike was slowly extending as the servants worked over the last parts of his frame. One of the servants had taken to the impossible job of trying to keep the berth underneath Smokescreen dry, and Smokescreen urged one of the other servants to lick his spike, if only to keep the growing need at bay.

He didn't have to wait long, but when the silhouette of slender breeder drones showed through the dim light, Smokescreen had to force himself to stay calm on the berth instead of demanding an interface. The drones entering the throne room were foreign to the hive- their scent carrying a sharp tang that made them outsiders. Smokescreen's temperature rose another few degrees, but he kept himself half-sitting against the back of his throne.  
He had no clue how this worked- drones visiting from another hive, did he have to do royal things? Exchange titles? Offer them energon? It was impossible to think clearly, and it did not become any easier when the servants tending to his interface equipment abandoned the berth.

“Young Queen.” One of the visiting drones stepped forward, and Smokescreen cycled his optics wider to catch as much of the bot's appearance as he could. The bot was different from the Insecticons in his own hive. Its plating was scarred from acid rains, and it was smaller, sleeker and thinner. Its erected spike had similar properties, and sat proudly on display. “It makes us happy you have such concern for the Insecticons to join us all.”

Smokescreen wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but knowing his role, it was probably interface related. He had trouble looking away from the bot's spike, and he settled in a more inviting position, hoping it was the right thing to do. “I'm th- a Queen now. I wouldn't be one if I did not care about the future of Cyb- the Insecticons.” If the Insecticons were bothered by his slip-up, they did not say anything.  
One of the newcomers clambered onto the berth, and flicked its tongue experimentally over the plating on Smokescreen abdomen. Smokescreen spread his legs wider, but the Insecticon did not push his spike inside. Instead it curled its spiked arms around Smokescreen's torso, hoisting him into a sitting position on the Insecticon's lap. Smokescreen's optics shuttered closed as he felt the long thin spike sliding against his valve before quickly slipping inside. He braced himself for the thrusts, but the Insecticon kept still, holding Smokescreen down on its spike.

“Young Queen- there are so many more hives to visit- so little time.... Do we have your permission to speed the process?...” Smokescreen's valve clenched around the bot's spike, and he frowned. What was he-? A second Insecticon frame pressed against Smokescreen's back, and he felt the slender tip of a second spike sliding over his occupied entrance. It took his vocaliser a moment before it started working.  
“Oh.”

Smokescreen's legs trembled, and his valve clenched again. Two at a time? Smokescreen rocked his hips, and let out a shuddery gasp at the unfulfilling friction. He tried to look over his shoulder, but the second Insecticon's spike was hidden from his view. Smokescreen panted and his valve ached. Two spikes-...  
“Two at once-?... yea- oka-...Yea, yes.” The first visitor purred, and its thin visor brightened as it laid back on the throne, pulling Smokescreen to lie on the Insecticon's rugged chestplates. The other Insecticon moved behind Smokescreen, its ventilations heavy in Smokescreen's audials as its spike lined up with his valve.  
Smokescreen's optics offlined as he waited for the second penetration, the sensation of a second spike prodding at his entrance had him clenching reflexively. It took a few tries, a few torturous attempts of repositioning and slow prodding, before the second spike slid in. Smokescreen's moan became a short scream when the first Insecticon started drawing back out before the other had sheathed.  
The two spikes slid against the walls of his valve in opposite directions, and a confused warning popped up on Smokescreen's HUD. Smokescreen dug his fingers into the chestplates beneath him, and squirmed in between the two frames rutting against him. Their thrusts were agonizingly slow, in stark contrast with the wild pounding from his usual drones. One would thrust inwards, and the other would draw back from its previous thrust, and then push in again as the other pulled back-... Smokescreen moaned and pushed back against the two invaders, and their pace started quickening with every sound he uttered until his vocaliser simply refused to make any more sounds.

Smokescreen's valve was leaking lubricant in near obscene amounts, the stretch from the two spikes leaving tiny gaps for the lubricant to squeeze out. Smokescreen couldn't feel his legs any more, and with his vocaliser offline, there were only the ragged gasps of his vents and the tremors of his frame showing his appreciation for their administrations.  
The visitor that had entered him first was approaching overload. The bot's shallow thrusts became less coordinated, leaving Smokescreen's vocaliser to activate with a choked gasp when the two spikes thrust upwards at the same time before the Insecticon overloaded and lost its transfluid inside Smokescreen's valve.  
The Insecticon fragging him from behind slowed its thrusts, and looped its limbs around Smokescreen's chest. Smokescreen breathed static when one of the two spikes slid out, and he was pulled back to lie on the other Insecticon. The next drone in line was on the berth in a klik, and this time there was only one thrust needed to sheathe a second spike in Smokescreen's valve.

Smokescreen's valve had no breaks that entire mating cycle. He lost count of the amount of Insecticons he took inside of him. There might have been a few repeat performances as well, but it was hard to tell with how much he was switching from lying on his stomach with deep thrusts from behind, or lying on his back with rigorous thrusts from the front.  
He was approaching overload fast, barely a few kliks in between an Insecticon spilling its load and a new one taking its place. There was wetness running all over his legs and berth, and it was coming closer with every little movement- his own spike was caught in between two moving abdomen, and by this point Smokescreen could feel his transfluids building for release. He could swear that one of the Insecticons going at it with him was one of his own hive- it was hard to tell with his optics flicking on and off without control.

He hung on the edge, nearly screaming out loud when an Insection pulled out right as he could feel the edge of bliss at his fingertips... He overloaded at the unexpected flick of a glossa against his over-capacity valve. His optics shorted out, sensor grid input soaking up all the power in his processor , and his vocaliser let out a scream that had the Insecticon's bristling throughout the hive.

When his processor rebooted, the visitors were lingering at a respectful distance from the throne. The servants had supplied them with energon, and the light glow highlighted the state of exhaustion on his guests. Smokescreen felt much of the same. He could barely feel his legs, and there was still a strand of charge running through his frame that had his limbs twitch. The servants were tending to him and the soaked berth, but with the overload still so fresh in his memory his systems refused to register the licks at his interface panels as honest stimulation. It was simply soothing as it was now.  
The visitors stood, and one of them made a small bow. “It was an honour to have your audience, Queen. I hope you will find us worthy to allow additional visits in the future.”  
Smokescreen half-laughed, and offlined his optics. “I should think so-...” The visitors made their awkward little bow again, and started on their way out. The Insecticon guide went ahead of them.

Smokescreen watched them leave with a warm feeling in his tank. Like he suspected, the Insecticons had an intricate system to prevent inbreeding and simple reproduction mistakes. He'd thought that they would simply kill the Queen once they ran out of suitable breeder material, but he should have known that life was far more effective than that. Drone-swapping in between hives was simpler and more effective.

There could be a day, where every single one of the Insecticons in the hive were his own spawn, and he could continue to be their Queen until his gestation chamber would simply stop working. As long as there would be visitors from other hives and offspring coming from his gestationchamber- Smokescreen would stay Queen. Smokescreen rolled his head into the caring servos of a servant, and offlined his optics. His frame was completely overworked, and the following day there would only be more strain on his servos. Smokescreen drifted into recharge, carried by a thick cloud of post-overload haze. He could hardly wait.

 

* * *

 

 

Ultra Magnus sat in his office, and watched as the data from the transmitter trickled into his databanks. He had ordered the Insecticon to bring it to Smokescreen. Ultra Magnus had half expected the Insecticon to deny ever knowing a 'Smokescreen' and for the Insect-bot to fly off without the transmitter, but it seemed that the beastly bot had followed his orders. It also meant that Smokescreen was indeed with the Insecticons, as their breeding slave.

It was impossible to imagine his soldier as a broken puppet, addicted to drug-laced energon and continuous interfacing, but that was in all probability what Smokescreen had become. Were five cycles enough to do lasting damage? Ultra Magnus clenched his denta together.  
Five cycles or ten, or thirty. It didn't matter, because they were not going to rescue Smokescreen.  
Ultra Magnus had the numbers, the sheets and tactics, and the Autobots were just a small group of rogues compared to the Decepticon army. Cybertron was straining to stay alive under the continued war, it's newly revived core only forming a potential weapon for the Decepticons. The Insecticons arriving at their makeshift base had been the moment in which Ultra Magnus had almost resigned to a fate of slavery or death at Decepticon hands. To learn that they were coming to their aid-... it had been a blessing from Primus himself. And then it had turned into a sour rain once the Insecticons explained their sudden loyalty.

The Autobots couldn't afford to lose those troops. The Insecticons listened with barely a klik of hesitation, swarmed into the face of danger with beastly ferocity, and they were strong. With them, the end of the war- with the Autobots as victors was a possibility again, and so, Ultra Magnus had made the decision that Smokescreen's sacrifice was too useful to waste.  
Which was why he was letting the data from Smokescreen's sensory-array trickle in. He was condemning a young bot, a good bot with a kind spark to a horrific fate. Even if the rookie had chosen to sacrifice himself, Smokescreen had had no idea of what he would be facing. There was a very good chance that Smokescreen would do anything to take back his sacrifice- to be saved, and they were not going to do it. Not until the war was won.

Ultra Magnus lived by the belief that a punishment should be felt before it could be dealt.  
He would have to see and know just what he was doing to Smokescreen, before he could allow himself to leave his soldier behind. Maybe, if he had been in command of a large army, he would have been able to look at the bot as a number, or a simple name on a screen instead of a suffering soldier. His army as it was now, consisted of only a handful of bots. It was impossible to stay detached.  
The datafeed was waiting for him, steadily growing larger with every passing breem. Ultra Magnus steeled himself, and he accessed the feed.

The first couple of recorded orns were from the Insecticon flying back to its hive. Through the connection, Ultra Magnus could see a ruined Cybertron pass underneath him, and smell the remainders of smoke in the air. He skipped forward. Five orns forward.  
Everything suddenly dove into complete darkness. Ultra Magnus shared the senses of his soldier, and his processor strained at the sheer bulk of the sensory data coming from the datastream. He offlined his optics for a klik, and when he opened them there was a soft glow of energon, highlighting the rutting frame of an Insecticon looming over him.

Ultra Magnus's intake stallled. He could hear Smokescreen panting from a fritzed vocaliser, and in the soft glow he could see Smokescreen's hand clawing desperately at the thrusting Insecticon. The sound of metal scraping against metal was almost enough to cover up the wet squishing noises of a rough interface. Ultra Magnus forced his tank to calm down, trying not to retch at the sopping noises of the coupling that was being forced on his soldier.

He could smell it too, the scent of energon hanging heavy and thick even through the unmistakable scent of lubricant and transfluids. Ultra Magnus hoped most sincerely that the energon had been a spilled ration, not the results of ripped interface port or a purge. Judging by how much his own tank was rebelling, Ultra Magnus shakily thought it could be both.

Smokescreen's vocaliser was frighteningly silent, throughout the ordeal, but Ultra Magnus could tell the amount of strain the mech was under by the sheer noises of his motor and vents. Smokescreen's intakes sounded clogged, and his vents occasionally stalled erratically with whizzing clicks.  
The Insecticons jamming its spike into Smokescreen leant forward, and did something that had Smokescreen shaking uncontrollably with hiccupping vents. Ultra Magnus sat immobilised as he watched, heard and smelled how Smokescreen was violated. This was what he was allowing to happen. This was the price for an army of Insecticons. He forced himself to keep the datastream open.

Smokescreen's head fell back unexpectedly, and Utra Magnus was treated to a second monstrous visor, also moving and rutting in that specific, disgusting rhythm. Ultra Magnus recoiled in his seat, and he could hear his own sound of dismay cutting through the gasping grunts of the thrusting Insecticons. Two of them. They were forcing themselves on him two at a time! Ultra Magnus was feeling as if he was going to purge, but he did not shut off the feed. Smokescreen was feeling it- every moment since entering the Insecticon hive he had been bent over a berth with a spike inside of him.

One of Smokescreen's assailants had apparently reached its peak, and it pulled out with a disgustingly satisfied groan. Almost immediately there was a new Insecticon wriggling its way into Smokescreen, and Smokescreen head lolled limply aside, treating Ultra Magnus to the sight of an Insecticon filled room with the broken sounds of his soldier's vents and the wet sounds of interface filling the air.

All of a sudden, Smokescreen's vocaliser came online. Stressed whimpers and cut-off bursts of panic were building in intensity with every disgusting rut of the Insecticons. Smokescreen's voice went higher and harsher and more strained- until he _screamed_. It was a broken sound of agony and Ultra Magnus doubled over in his chair. He finally cut the transmission, and the interrupted howl of Smokescreen's pain echoed in his audials. Ultra Magnus locked the datastream, and leant onto his desk, holding his head in his hands. They couldn't afford to lose the support of the Insecticons. They couldn't fight off the Decepticons and a full hive of the beasts with only six bots and three humans. Not even with all the relics in the solar system.

“Forgive me, Smokescreen...”  
He would end the war as quickly as he could, and then he would immediately list Smokescreen's rescue as a top priority mission. Until then, he would have to live with the knowlegde that he was seeking peace at the cost of a young soldier suffering through cycles upon cycles of extreme sexual abuse.  
“Forgive me...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. Not sure how happy I am with this. I do love the Ultra Magnus angst. Any advice or tips are greatly encouraged!


	3. A true Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smokescreen makes the very last step towards becoming a true Queen. His worries for boredom of a life on a berth are eased, but not so much his other worries...

Memory purges are almost like dreams. Confused memoryfiles being replayed during a recharge cycle- often mixing with other data into a stream of incoherent images sounds and smells. Mostly the process goes unlogged, filed away as unimportant by the subsystems, but sometimes the memory would be heavy enough to trigger the memorybanks into recording. The Decepticons had attempted to turn that into a spying weapon, having the memory-banks record audio from within an offline mech. Said mech had gone completely insane in a matter of breems, and had finally ended up terminated. 

Smokescreen never had many memory purges, and he counted himself lucky for it. He didn't have enough traumatic events for his processor to spit up, probably. The few purges he had sometimes brought him back to the Decepticon ship that had captured him- mostly it brought him back to the moment where he'd almost become a Prime. The powerful matrix, resting inside the cooling body of Optimus Prime...

This time, he had a memory purge that he really had no memory of at all. Warm, compressed, curled up and trapped without the barest inch of movement. He didn't have limbs, or if he did, he couldn't feel them. He had no optics to online- just awareness. Awareness, and a companion that lingered silently in the background of his mind.  
There were muted sounds, as if they were coming to him through a barrier of metal- subdued clicking of Inseticon frames, the almost inaudible beating of their wings... The walls around him shifted, and his entire being slid a tiny distance over whatever ground he was lying on. 

He could hear the rush of energon through fuel lines, and the vague wet noises of inner compartments working sustenance into the small space he occupied. There was another thing pressed against him, something round. It had noticed him too. He reached out without a physical body, and felt a tentative little lick of response, tying them together. His non-body made a little jolt. There were more than two?  
They reached for him too, and he accepted. They were a small ball, a net, a cluster, a group. Smokescreen searched for more connection, for another one to connect to their network, but there was none. They settled, a perfect group, all waiting for what was going to come next. 

 

Smokescreen jolted awake. His vents dragged in an obscene gulp of cold air and his cooling fans clicked on with the echo of the heat in his memory purge. He trembled. He'd never been in that place- that was no memory of his! His malware programming was running wild and Smokescreen rolled onto his stomach to-.  
His intakes stalled. He froze on the berth, still lying on his stomach, and experimentally pressed his belly against the berth. Yes. It was still there- an uneven, undeniably Insecticon collection of obstructions in his frame. 

O scrap. That was faster than he'd thought. Smokescreen rolled onto his side in a klik, one hand brushing away a worried Insecticon servant and the other going to investigate. The plating was not engorged or dented from the inside, and when lying on his side he felt nothing- but when he pressed down just a teensy bit, his softer inner parts flattened against a firm clutch of eggs. 

He rubbed slowly. The inner wall of his gestationchamber was lubricated, and the eggs slid against each other, trying to escape the pressure of his hands. Eggs. Actual eggs- small Insecticons... Smokescreen swallowed. He hoped that the eggs would... would not hatch inside of him. Primus, why hadn't he paid more attention to these type of things! He pressed down harder on his stomach plating and they slid away again. 

A tremor shot through his body. He had seen the matrix one single time in his life, when it had been offered to him. A relic containing the sparks of wise and chosen leaders. The Matrix was like an Allspark that only collected, and never freed the sparks that were returned to it. It was still a piece of life- a force of Primus, unadultered and pure. The clutch of eggs in his abdomen, a close-knit collection of newly created sparks, felt like a piece of the Allspark had nested inside of him.  
His processor was running hazy, ineffective thought patterns, and Smokescreen rubbed his hand more prominently over his abdomen. He could feel them moving inside of him if he stroked hard. Feeling them made it more real. 

A servant had noted his awakening, and it handed him a pod of energon. Smokescreen took a half-hearted sip before he dropped it off the side of the berth. The servant clicked worriedly, and crawled closer, nervously pawing over Smokescreen to find damage or signs of deterioration.  
Smokescreen shook his head, still in a daze. “No-'m not sick- wait. Feel.” He grabbed one of the servant's limbs, and pressed it against his abdomen. The Insecticon only sounded more worried until Smokescreen pressed harder and the obstruction became clear. The servant seemed to freeze for a klik, and then it made a high keening sound.

“Queen- Queen-! Eggs! The Queen carries eggs!” It jerked its paws away, and started fussing. There was a bristling of dozens of Insecticon wings, and the berth was swarming with servants in just a few kliks. Smokescreen let them roll him onto his back, and watched as they skirted around his stomach as if it was a gift from Primus that would explode if they were to come too close. 

“Uh- Is... is that such a surprise?” The question was lost in the wave of chittering and clicking the cascaded through the hive. The Insecticon servant was crooning like it had gotten a wing stuck under a rock and another was stacking up energon pods as if Smokescreen could fall offline at any moment. He could barely reach out for one before another servant was already holding one at his lips. It tasted different- more metallic. His HUD suddenly seemed to remember the low fuel levels in his tank and Smokescreen threw back the energon so quickly his intake almost couldn't take it in quick enough. The Insecticon servants practically crawled over him, and there were nervous touches that didn't dare to touch his abdomen. 

He was carrying eggs. Smokescreen squirmed slightly in the overwhelming group-hug and shivered when a careful stroke over his abdomen once again outlined the small eggs in his gestationchamber. 

Other Insecticons were entering the throne room besides the servants, and Smokescreen watched as the room started to fill up with Insecticons. They were clicking and keening in a horrid cacophony of beating wings and clicking limbs. Smokescreen felt pure unbridled excitement pass through the Insecticons like a wave, and he shivered.  
The servants were suddenly pulled aside, and Smokescreen was lifted off his throne by a large Insecticon soldier. It sat on the throne, Smokescreen in his lap with his back to the Insecticon's chest. He could look over all of them, dozens of gleaming metal shells crawling and climbing over eachother. The empty pods on the wall were invisible behind a sheen of climbing Insecticons. 

Smokescreen barely recognized the different types of Insecticons that showed in the dim light. Everything crawled over and under eachother Bodies, limbs and tongues were fighting to come in touch with him. The soldier Insecticon was whining, rubbing its spiky helm softly against the side of his head. Smokescreen couldn't see the room anymore, just Insecticons, and all those red visors were stuck on his abdomen. Smokescreen squirmed in the soldier's lap, and looked at the Insecticon mass gathered in front of him. 

They were waiting for something, and Smokescreen tried to find his guide. He would know what he was supposed to do- 

There was a sound of grinding metal, and something shifted against his back. Smokescreen jolted and turned his head. The Insecticon soldier had bared its spark. Smokescreen's entire frame shuddered when the brittle life force made contact with his plating. He could feel the energy of the spark, all contained in such a small spot, powerful and wild.  
The soldier whined and held its helm low and submissive. “Queen- our Queen....” Smokescreen clumsily turned himself around on the soldier's lap, and reached for the bot's life source. His fingers inched closer and closer, until they rested against the fierce spark. The Insecticon's claws were hooked softly and carefully around Smokecsreen's back, and they trembled. The bot was afraid. His chestplates did not close, and his visor offlined. 

Smokescreen stilled. They were still waiting, waiting for something. He dared a look into the room, meeting the expectant visors but receiving no answer. Was it an offering for his eggs? Smokescreen severely hoped that he was not about to be fed a spark. Was that even a viable option?

Half-remembered lessons from Ratchet flashed through his processor. Something about the power in a spark, and the things a free spark can do to machinery would it not gutter out immediately upon being disconnected. Smokescreen's tank made a little jump in his chassis, and he stared at the spark on display in front of him. Did they really-?....  
He would do it, if it meant that it would keep the Insecticons to stand by the Autobots. He'd accepted their spikes in him- why not take their sparks too? He tried to qualm his rising sickness, and he steeled himself. The Insecticons's spark was warm and alive under his touch.

“I- I don't know what I'm supposed to do here.” He said in a small voice. The soldier onlined his visor, and its claws drew Smokescreen closer to his spark. He seemed hesitant.  
“My Queen-...you left your hive, to save us. We doubted-... but you carry. You hold eggs, and you are fertile.” It said in a strangled voice, and it let out a short whine. “We are yours- judge us! Let us be your hive.” The soldier fell silent and the other Insecticons chittered. Smokescreen was on edge, and he pulled his hand away from the Insecticon's spark. 

“Judge you-? Uh, how?” There was another sound of unlocking metal, and Smokescreen flinched when another Insecticon showed him its bare spark. The soldier gestured, and Smokescreen knew what he was going to answer before the Insecticon had uttered a sound. “-a MERGE?” 

Okay. He could do that. Okay. A sparkmerge. Smokescreen was trembling on the soldier's lap, and he looked at the swirling spark in front of him. He'd come here expecting to give his spark for the Autobot cause, he reminded himself. No turning back now. Frag, he had Insecticon EGGS in his gestation chamber- a sparkmerge would... would be nothing. Smokescreen quickly crushed his flaring wish of sharing sparks with a bot he loved.  
For the Autobots. For Cybertron. 

Smokescreen steeled himself, and sent the command for his chestplates to open. The Insecticons in the throneroom bristled and whined, wings beating harshly and claws drawing gouges in the Hive flooring. The soldier underneath him sat completely frozen, and Smokescreen forced himself to press their sparkchambers together. 

He could feel the life of the Insecticon, that whirling energy, drawing closer and closer. His own spark was reaching out, connecting to that energy- recognising it from the time they had once shared as a single being in the Allspark-

The link clicked into place. Like a bolt of electricity Smokescreen's awareness spread through the Insecticon. He felt the Insecticon in him, felt himself in the Insecticon, two beings starting to mix, separate like oil and water.... The soldier was old in terms of Insecticon years, having endured the rule of Arachnid and Megatron, and even remembering the Queen that came before them.  
Smokescreen could feel the ache in his wings that never seemed to dissipate, and that strange numb spot on his throat, the worries for their hive, how much he enjoyed licking up bits of crystalised energon... Smokescreen dug deeper, long forgotten memories bubbling to the surface of their merge until there was nowhere deeper to go and just beyond he could feel....- Smokescreen's intakes stalled.

He could feel all the Insecticons. 

Like a web, every little bit of Insecticon was linked to all the others. Smokescreen could feel the different smaller groups within the hive-mind. The servants, the soldiers, the few remaining breeders, the scouts, the workers.... They were all connected to eachother, and now he could feel it. The guide, his guide- the Insecticons shared so much that they were almost a single being instead of individuals, but their personal traits, little preferences, likes and dislikes- they were there, hidden under a thick blanket of unity.

Smokescreen was dragged into the mix. He was a speck floating around in the sea of rust, rolling around in the waves of the Hivemind. They needed a Queen- a true queen. The centre-piece of the enourmous gesalt that was an insecticon hive, the head to steer the body, the processor to move the frame. The hive kept him at a distance. He wasn't meant to join them, not like this. He already had a place. Right on top of the ladder.

Smokescreen couldn't find himself any more, following the endless turns and tides of the Hive.  
He was a soldier who had lost a limb- a servant that grew up too small– a frustrated breeder– a skittish scout– another soldier– soldier, scout, soldier, breeder, soldier workerbreederservantsoldier- tiny hints of life, growing bigger in comforting wet warmth-

_Queen – our Queen_

The words came agonisingly slow, straight from the Hivemind without a Queen. Smokescreen had read about gestalts, and how they connected their minds, bodies and sparks into one larger-than-life-creature. He'd known the technicalities, reality, as proven many times before, was vastly different. There was a void in the middle, where the gesalt leader was meant to be, an empty space where hopeful tendrils were reaching for what wasn't there. 

It was his place. 

The Insecticons were pushing him towards that void, urging him to take his place as their Queen- their connections growing thinner and thinner and-

There was a surge of energy setting off his entire sensorgrid, and Smokescreen was forcefully pulled back into his own frame. The Insecticon soldier was lying limp against the throne, their sparks slowly untangling as Smokescreen pushed back.  
He could still feel the Insecticon, a steady, lumbering presence only barely connected to him. A bond. He had bonded with an Insecticon. Smokescreen twitched, and tried to steady himself against the Insecticon below him. The first of his gesalt. His Hive. 

Smokescreen was pretty sure that at one point in his life he would have been mortified at the very idea, but in this moment, with his spark still echoing those endless connections and the Insecticons trilling their approval there was nothing he wanted more than to take his rightful place as Queen. 

The Insecticon soldier was moved away from him, pulled aside by his brethren, and a different spark was suddenly pressing closer to Smokescreen's. He knew this spark- purely from his connection with the soldier. It was a worker, and he enjoyed chewing on silicone, he had great talents in building egg-pods.  
Smokescreen latched onto the Insecticon and pressed their chestplates together. He wanted to be a part of that living mass again, have a place in something that was so much bigger than him-.... and to be given the ultimate control. The worker's personality traits and emotions passed by him in a blur as he dug deeper, trying to find that connection!

There! The intricate network of Insecticons opened for him once again. Smokescreen could feel all their attention on him as he once again entered the hive mind- they urged him towards his rightful place. A second link snapped into place, right besides the soldier. The other Insecticons faded as Smokescreen's spark disconnected from the worker, but he was one step closer to... to being Primus. 

It was the only thing he could compare it to. Primus was an almighty god, and the creator of all Cybertronian life. They were parts of his spark, connected to him and all other Cybertronians through simple origin. The Hive- he was their revived Primus. He was going to carry their life, and they were all connected. Smokescreen cried out, and the Insecticons mirrored his cries. 

His link with the second Insecticon was in place, and it was pushed aside by the next Insecticon. They were all going to become one under his watching optic. Smokescreen would forever be the throne room, breeding their future, and they would share the world with him as a gift for that immeasurable sacrifice.  
The third Insecticon advanced, and Smokescreen felt the connections flare to life again though his merge with the Insecticon.

The throne belonged to him, and it had been vacant for a very long time. Their first Queen was dead, and the precious princess eggs she had laid were stolen- destroyed. Gone, their Hive would be gone without eggs, without a Queen!  
Then there had been promises. Promises from a sleek flying mech with a screeching voice, promises from his companion, the grey giant with a humming cannon. And of course the promise from their most promising Queen.... Arachnid.

The sixth Insecticon pressed his spark to Smokescreen's....

She had been accepted on the throne. She had been the one to connect the Insecticons- to make that bond seem whole again. She had been the surrogate processor on a mindless mech- the struts that strengthened their hive back to its glorious strength!....  
She had refused to breed. Of course, none dared to protest the absolute rule of the Queen. Their Queen knew best after all. The Insecticon numbers dwindled, and the pods stayed empty... And then she abandoned her throne, leaving it empty and barren. 

The ninth came forward and opened its chestplates....

Smokescreen saw himself, trying to stand unflinching before a squadron of looming Insecticons. Saying he could be their Queen. Smokescreen remembered how much he had been shaking when he'd stood there, fearing either answer they could give him. He did not have the connection as Queen Arachnid did, nor the rumbling power of the Silver One, but he had said that he understood. 

_“Listen, alright? I know that your hive... hives, things- have been in trouble. If- if you send soldiers to aid the Autobots... I'll breed for you. I will. For... for as long as you need...”_

_“Forever?”_

_“.......yes.”_

They had accepted. They had hoped. The grey giant had refused to breed for them, and so had Arachnid. Arachnid-! The one that felt their peril the most, one that had truly been a Queen for them. But maybe this Queen would understand. His words would be tested as soon as he was settled in the Hive. He would not be given the reign, not like Arachnid or Megatron. Not until he had proven his frame to be capable.  
The Hive could not lose a third Queen. If their new Queen turned out to be as barren as the previous, there was little hope for a new start. A Queen was not meant to be lost. Her queenling-offspring was meant for new hives, not to replace herself. A Queen lasted as long as she had a Hive to care for her. The Hive without Queen was a pitiful ordeal, a dwindling bunch of bugs- working and slaving away for the purpose of nothing. But there were eggs inside their Queen. Their Queen was fertile!

…. the twenty-fifth Insecticon chassis spiraled open.... 

His Hive... They were only remnants of what a true Hive was capable of. With Smokescreen in their middle, they would be a complete again. Soldiers would no longer have to go blindly into a battle they didn't understand. Servants would no longer waste time in an empty throne room. Breeders would finally be able to indulge their instincts, workers would build new rooms for the oncoming offspring! Everything would be restored!  
It continued forever. Like going for an elaborate check-up on all his ports and wires, meticulously jacking into a huge computer until he had no more connection ports left to connect with. 

“Oh- Primus-...” Smokescreen was sure that his spark would simply stop existing at one point. He merged, melted into different beings as if he WAS them, and his spark grew with every connection- He barely felt the network fading in between the merges anymore. They were still there. He was already seated on the throne, connecting him to his gesalt, his Hive...

…. there were no more Insecticons to open their chestplates for him. 

A servant eased his chestplates shut with soft croons. Insecticons of all breeds were caring for him, and a young scout spilled energon down his front as he tried to feed Smokescreen. The soldiers left first. Spreading through the hive on their usual patrols with the unmistakable invitation for him to take their minds and bodies to see the world outside of his throneroom for himself.  
The throne room was emptying again until only the servants remained. There wasn't even the slightest hint that the room had been completely stuffed with Insecticons just a moment before.  
Smokescreen could still feel them all. Behind a thin veil, every single Insecticon of his hive was hidden. It was weird. It was elating. It was better than being a Prime.  
He was a Queen. 

Any worries he might have had about never being able to leave the throne room were now moot. He didn't want to anymore. He didn't have to. He could simply offline his optics and follow the thin connection to one of his Insecticons.  
There he would find that small personality, hidden under that same-mindedness of the Hive, and the surrender would follow soon after his query. He would feel wings unfolding on his back, optics becoming a red visor, and sleek plating becoming rugged and scarred. As long as he bred, he could go wherever he wanted, and do whatever he wanted!

There was no additional breeding that day- Smokescreen doubted he would have stayed awake for it. He rubbed a hand over his stomach and felt his eggs. He was in the very centre of his hive, and soon enough he'd be adding new younglings to the mix.

Smokescreen dozed on his berth, his silent request for a recharge partner being answered by a servant curling up against him, and he thought about nothing.

His memory purge featured Ultra Magnus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O gee. This took forever. I found this a LOT harder to write. Hm. Sorry that there's not much spiking going on in this one, nor much birthing or any of the tag-things. Smokescreen can be difficult for me. 
> 
> Still hope you enjoyed it! Any advice welcome, naturally :>


	4. Rescue?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Autobots will be Autobots- they couldn't leave Smokescreen to suffer, could they?

Smokescreen woke up dazed. He had a servant curled up besides him, and his systems felt wonderfully sluggish. There was still energy from the merges and the bonds running through his frame, and his sensornet was still tingling. The bonds... Smokescreen stroked the servant idly as he reached out for the dozens of connections that tied him to his hive.

He closed his eyes and touched the hivemind softly, seeing the entire structire of the hive with just a thought. It had been a confusing maze before, but now he could see the subtle structures, everything carefully separated and planned for optimal effectiveness. Eggchambers, material storage, food storage- Everything spiralled back to his throneroom..

He could feel every single Insecticon in the connection. Smokescreen's mind reeled from the information that they were supplying. He reached out and touched their minds, nearly getting blown away by the fierce protectiveness and affection that was shot at him. Smokescreen's spark made a small throb in its chamber, and his interface array started heating.

He called for the drones, and he extended the invitations to a few non-breeders as well. He wanted to feel their sparks again, and their spikes too while they were at it. He wanted to merge until he forgot who he was. The Insecticons arrived, and a couple of them climbed onto the berth and hugged him close. It was a comfortable mix of all the different types his Hive had. Smokescreen relaxed in their hold and rubbed his cheek against the worker that was snuggled against him. The Insecticon made a click and a short beep, and Smokescreen startled.   
“Bumblebee?” 

The Insecticon gave him a confused look. Smokescreen shook his head and pressed closer against the Insecticon chassis. The Autobots-... his 'old hive' as the Insecticons dubbed them. The Insecticon hivemind had barely paid attention to the war, only to follow Ultra Magnus' orders, but the fights were hanging like a vague memory in the gesalt. 

Yes- the fights had been good. Soldiers had died, soldiers that hadn't gotten the chance to bond with the new Queen, but they had taken a lot of enemies down with them. Smokescreen wondered how close the Autobots were to victory. He'd have to check up on that – right after a good few interfaces.

Smokescreen pressed his hands against the chassis of the Insecticon cuddling him and stroked at the seams of its chestplate. The metal shifted away obediently, and the glow of its vulnerable spark had Smokescreen's optics dimming. He rested his face against the sparkchamber and enjoyed the shuddering purr that ran through the Insecticon.

One of the other Insecticons whined, and rubbed its pelvic plating against the side of Smokescreen's leg. Smokescreen smiled against the Insecticon's sparkchamber. Yes, it was time for it, wasn't it? It had been a while since the last interface, for Insecticon standards. The breeder trying to reach his valve whined, and Smokescreen wriggled himself onto his back. 

A servant kept nuzzling his helm over Smokescreen's chevron, and another one was chirping excitedly. They were urging the breeder on as it tried to line up its spike and Smokescreen joined in, rubbing his wet valve teasingly against the Insecticon's spike. “Yea, fulfill your duty- You know you want to.” He grinned. 

The breeder keened as its spike slid over Smokescreen's valve, and Smokescreen opened his legs as wide as they could go. The servants grabbed his pedes and pulled them back. Smokescreen's breath hitched as his valve spiraled open with the position, and the breeder's spike rubbed over his opening. His arms were pulled over his head and dull claws pressed him down on the berth. 

Smokescreen tried to keep his breaths even as the breeder lined itself up and pressed inside. His pedes twitched and he let his head roll back with the stretch of the breeder's spike. Calipers were pushed open and his nodes lit as the spike came past them. Oh- he had missed this. His legs trembled with strain as the Insecticons forced them further back and almost folded him in two. He shuddered when he felt the Insecticon's spike pressing against his gestationchamer, and he could feel the eggs inside of him.

Smokescreen shuddered violently and the breeder licked soothingly over his cheek. Smokescreen moved his head and met the long glossa with his own. The breeder whined and made a short little thrust that had Smokescreen's optics cutting out for a second. The other Insecticons were pressing careful licks against his armour, and he moaned.

His valve felt small with the position they held him in, and the breeder's thrusts pressed against his gestationchamber again at their deepest point. He could feel the eggs sliding against each other within him, and more lubricant started running from his valve.   
The breeder was losing itself in its passion, visor offlining and its thrusts becoming wilder. Smokescreen squirmed in the hold of his servants and every little shift of his body caused the Insecticon spike to hit different sensors.

Smokescreen's spike had come free at one point, and it strained in between his chassis and the rutting breeder. He feebly sought friction, but he couldn't move enough and his spike was left aching and strained. The breeder leant forward and pressed its toothed mouth hot against Smokescreen's neck.

“Queen-” The Insecticons chanted in unison. “Queen, Queen.” 

One of the Insecticons moved its glossa to his spike, and Smokescreen struggled in the grip of his servants in wild abandon. Energy was running hot through his systems, and he started opening his chestplates. The breeder growled and pushed inside harder, its chestplates spiralling open as well-

Something broke. Smokescreen blinked and he stopped his writhing. Something had broken, near his spark- Smokescreen struggled to place the feeling, even as the The sensation came again, and the tip of the breeder's spike was jabbing so deliciously into a cluster of sensornodes at the top if his valve and his processor reeled with pleasure.   
The Insecticon sped up in its thrusts, and Smokescreen was trying desperately to try and think- 

The breeder on top of him offlined in mid-thrust, and its heavy frame flattened Smokescreen to the berth. The Insecticons holding his arms and legs back collapsed and Smokescreen yelped when his limbs twisted under their weight. He could hear more frames hitting the ground, workers falling clean off the walls.

Smokescreen's antivirus programs were running on top speeds, but they were finding nothing. Smokescreen cursed and tried to struggle free from the breeder's spike. 

“Wake up-! Get off, the eggs-!” His order was useless. The breeder was offline, and the comforting hug of the familiar frames was now a constricting mess of sharp edges and pressure. Smokescreen's legs were kept strained and immobile by the Insecticons and his arms were stuck-! “Scrap scrap scrap!”   
The eggs, he had to protect the eggs-! Smokescreen struggled harder, but the Insecticons frames kept him pinned. The spike inside of him was rubbing his sensors and the shifting eggs in his stomach were making him queasy. He had to get out! He had to protect the eggs, the future of the entire hive-

_// repair nanytes detected  
//medical override initiated  
//recharge protocols initiating in 7...  
//6..._

Repair-?... Medical override?! Smokescreen bucked his hips against the breeder on top of him, but the Insecticon only slid slightly to the side and pressed painfully against his stomach. Smokescreen froze as the heavy pressure landed harshly against the eggs in his stomach. He didn't dare move again. Alone- alone- all the connections were gone, the network was inactive and dead-! He activated his commlink, but his signal couldn't penetrate the walls of the hive and only static answered him.   
It had to be the cons- with how much his Insecticons had been destroying it was only logical that they wanted him out of the picture- 

_//4...  
//3..._

He could feel a searing panic bubbling up. This shouldn't have happened-! This was impossible, he couldn't offline now! The safety of the Hive went over all!

_//2...  
//1..._

Smokescreen's pedes went slack and his last fight went out of him with a few twitches as the medical overrides plunged him into forced recharge. 

 

 

Five breems after detonating the nanyte-bomb, the beating and clicking of Insecticon wings had come to a complete standstill, and the hive had become quiet. Arcee had found the noise distracting, but the silence was worse.

Without the incessant beating of wings the hive had a 'long abadoned, but who lit the energonlamps' kind of feeling. Arcee held her blaster out, and shone her headlights down another long passage littered with offline Insecticons. There was still a thin mist from the grenade hanging in the dark tunnel. Wheeljack had the map and he frowned at the intricate mess that displayed on his datapad. “You'd think they installed directions or a map- this place is a maze.” 

“Hate to say it, but it's an effective defense mechanism. If we don't find Smokescreen soon we're going to have to call off the plan.” Arcee answered. She stepped over a collapsed Insecticon and looked into the offline visor. She kicked her pede loosely against the helm and looked at Wheeljack. “No chance of us getting sleepy is there?” 

“I checked that override twice. We're safe, unless they decide to try mechevolution in the last few breems.” Wheeljack quirked a smile at her and turned into the hallway. More immobile Insecticon bodies littered the floors and Wheeljack pushed one aside with his pede. “I wonder if they always sleep in the hall. Kind of bad manners.” 

Arcee clambered over a small pile of Insecticons and scanned for online visors. “These things can sleep on Unicron's eyebrow and I wouldn't care one scrap.” 

Wheeljack tapped on the datapad. “Okay, left here... Did you figure out what we're gonna tell Magnus yet?” Arcee scowled. 

“I'm not going to make excuses. He didn't want to rescue Smokescreen, so we're doing it. That's all there is to it.” She walked faster. “Did you bring that Decepticon symbol?” 

Wheeljack flashed the piece of purple metal. “Let's hope that the bugs here are smart enough to recognise it and stupid enough to think that the Decepticons did it.” He tossed the piece of Decepticon metal right in front of an Insecticon and continued on his way. “We're approaching the central part of the Hive. Smokescreen should be in there.” 

Arcee squinted and turned up her headlights. “I think I see it.”   
The hallway they entered was larger than the others, and it ended in a large, dimly lit room. There was a strange berth looming in the middle, completely swamped with Insecticons and with two white pedes sticking out of the heap.

“Scrap- that's Smokescreen!”   
Arcee knew what had been happening to her friend, but seeing it was something different. She cursed out loud and ran to the berth. How in the Pits could Smokescreen have been so stupid-! 

Smokescreen was only visible by his pedes, spread wide to allow one of the beasts to settle comfortably in between them. The rest of the Insecticons was holding him spread open and captive. She clawed at the Insecticons and tore them away until he became visible from underneath the looming Insecticon.   
Arcee clenched her denta as she caught sight of Smokescreen's panic-stricken faceplate. Her weapons were scorching hot as she reared her arm to blast the largest Insecticon through its ugly helm.

Wheeljack grabbed her arm. “Wouldn't try it, 'cee! I don't know how those nanytes hold up against onlining battle protocols. Let sleepin' 'secticons lie, alright?” 

Arcee slowly retracted her blaster. _This is not the time for revenge,_ she reminded herself, _remember what happened the last time you went for revenge!_ Her face cold, she started to pull the smaller Insecticons away from Smokescreen's battered frame together with Wheeljack. 

Smokescreen was a mess. His paint was full of scrapes and the bare metal of his plating was visible near his panels. Covered in liquids and spread open on display, Smokescreen looked like a broken doll. Wheeljack expression was caught between distant fascination and pity as he helped Arcee to free him. The last remaining Insecticon was the big one pinning him to the berth. It still had its spike stuffed inside of Smokescreen's valve, and Wheeljack shook his head.

“Pit.... Don't worry kid. We're gonna get you out of here.” Wheeljack wormed an arm in between Smokescreen and the Insection, and started heaving the beast off Smokescreen's frame. Arcee hooked her hands underneath Smokescreen's arms and pulled him out from under the Insecticon. They both ignored the slick sound of the Insecticon spike sliding free.

Wheeljack dropped the Insecticon back on the berth and stared at the puddle of fluids collected on the berth. “I think I reached a new level of disgust today.” Arcee didn't respond and the two Autobots lifted Smokescreen up.

Arcee was quiet and she kept her iron gaze fixed in front of her. The last time she'd been carrying a limp Cybertronian body had been with Tailgate. Smokescreen was alive, but that was only marginally better. Ratchet was the greatest medic she knew, but he was a lousy psychiatrist. She turned her head to look at Smokescreen's faceplate. He still looked uncomfortable and panicked – broken. 

The Insecticons had obviously not been kind. Smokescreen had been forced, probably multiple times-.... there was no way he was going to walk away without processor scars. Arcee huffed air angrily. 

As soon as Ratchet had fixed Smokescreen, she was going to throttle him. She was seriously torqued at him. Going off alone to be the martyr, following a stupid rag-tag plan that could have gotten him shredded into confetti- He could have talked about it! Ratchet could have made him a pain inhibitor if he had insisted to go, they could have made a fail-safe rescue plan, they could have made a much better plan! 

Arcee walked a bit quicker. The faster Smokescreen was back at the base where he belonged, the better it would be. Ratchet could fix his body, and time would have to heal the scars, just like it had healed her scars. The end of the maze was nearby and Arcee welcomed the light of Cybertron's star. They transformed, and Wheeljack carried Smokescreen's prone frame on his roof. 

“Magnus is gonna be pissed.” 

“....”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time with this chapter, but I hope you will all enjoy it regardless :)


End file.
